Carly's essay

This is a short story written by Taylor for her teacher for teacher's appreciation week. I just had to share it.

CARLY'S ESSAY

Carley watched the constant ticking of the clock, her mind blank. Why do I have to write this? She thought about how the clock kept at a steady pace, always going. If only my mind worked that way.

The teacher had assigned the class to write an essay on something that seemed magical to them. Something that inspired them or that made them think.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Every second there’s a little sound, counting the time. Kind of like a metronome. She tried to find inspiration in that little piece of knowledge.

Well, I do play the piano, but it’s nothing special to me. Personally, I just like how the tempo is perfect, never faster than it’s supposed to be, never slower. It always comes when expected. You can speed it up, but it keeps going steadily.

Carley looked around the room. The clock, Marian’s fingers tapping, Jonathon’s gum chewing, even the computer’s typing cursor, they all keep a tempo. Then, she thought of being at her house. A dog’s tail wagging, the hum of a car, a metronome, even walking stays at a beat. Almost everything does!

Then, it struck her that this could be the thing she wrote about. She looked at her paper, as blank as a white-washed wall. There was a lot of space to fill up, and she had a lot to write about.


There are so many things in this world that I could choose to write about, but one thing that makes me really think is plainly, a steady tempo. Almost everything is kept in an even pace. Well, at least in some sort of rhythmic pattern.


When I hear a beat, my heart races. I think of music flying from the surface of the noise. I just want to dance! When you hear a drum beat, don’t you just want to move around?

Carley was a little uneasy about putting so many of her feelings down on a paper to be turned in to the teacher, but it was all true, so she kept it.

She continued writing until she came to her final paragraph. It read:


Some people think of their heart as the organ that pumps their blood. That’s not the complete truth. The heart, to me, is the metronome of life. The heartbeat measures my inspiration, joy, happiness, and love out all at equal times, and equal amounts.


Again, she felt a little uncomfortable about putting so much about herself on the paper, but the words were going to stay there. It’s true, isn’t it?

She read over the paper and a thought came to her. I put so much of my thoughts and feelings on a simple essay. I kind of feel foolish. The teacher is probably going to laugh at me! She looked again. No, she’s not. This is all true. Not a bit of it that I wrote is a lie. Now I know more about myself. I expressed my feelings. This isn’t for my teacher’s purposes, but my own -to find out more about myself.

Carley walked up and turned the paper in. I think that I just figured out something that all the other kids missed. They’re probably going to write about dragons and warlocks. Well, it is their story and I wrote mine. They probably would laugh at mine. Oh, well.

The next day, at the same time, Carley was reading and waiting for the other children to finish writing their stories. When the last kid turned their paper in, and it was corrected, the teacher called out, “Carley, can you come up here?” I was scared out of my wits! Was she calling me up to tell me how ridiculous my essay was?

Carley went to the teacher’s desk and squeaked, “Yes, Mrs. Holiday?”

“Carley, we teachers have chosen your paper to represent our school in the district writing contest! If you win, which you have a high probability of doing, not only would the school earn a cash prize, you would, too! I believe that this year, winning students are awarded fifty dollars.”

I really couldn’t believe my ears. My silly bit of paper has a chance of winning fifty dollars!
Mrs. Holiday continued, “So are you willing to let us send your essay in?”

“Of course,” Carley replied, “I mean, if it’s really good enough for that.”

“We wouldn’t have chosen it if we thought it wasn’t good enough. Trust me on this.”

A month later, it was a normal day. The class was working on another assignment and Carley was busy at work. Mrs. Holiday called out, “We have great news! Carley won the district writing contest! Here’s your award money.”

Me? I really was good enough? My paper was good enough? Wow, this is amazing! So Carley went to the teacher’s desk to get her award.

“Carley,” Mrs. Holiday said when handing over the prize money, “you really did deserve this.”

It may not seem like much, but to Carley, that meant a whole bunch. So she continued her career as an author and became very successful, inspiring many young children.


…A teacher can be very inspiring, too, and for that, they deserve the most appreciation for what they do for everybody, for without them, we wouldn’t be educated…


-Taylor Chelak